I didn't get the job at The Sun. The rejection letter was very polite, but when I got to the part that read "we've decided to keep looking," I yelled "Bitch, that ad's been posted for THREE YEARS!?!?!?"

Yeesh.

Fortunately, after a tiny wallow, I've built up a nice head of pointless righteous indignation. That's more productive.

Kent called on his break and I told him. He said, "Aw, sweetie, if I'd known that was going to happen, I would have told you to get yourself a bottle of wine."